


5 Times He Just Didn't Get It

by seekingmoonscapes



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Amused!Pepper, Frustrated!Tony, M/M, Oblivious!Bruce, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-07
Updated: 2012-12-07
Packaged: 2017-11-20 14:07:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/586190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekingmoonscapes/pseuds/seekingmoonscapes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LJ Prompt: I saw a bumper sticker the other day that read "I'm a physicist; flirt harder." In honour of this wise bumper sticker, give me five times Tony flirted with or came on to Bruce and he. Just. Didn't. Get. It.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Times He Just Didn't Get It

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first outing on the great megaship that is AO3. I wish that therefore I would be adding something new nad exciting. Unfortunately I'm just adding something I've already published elsewhere just so my profile looks a little less anemic instead. Still I hope those of you that haven't seen it before will still enjoy it regardless.

**The First Time**

“Your work on anti-electron collisions is unparalleled…  And I’m huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous, green, rage monster.”

“…Thanks.”

***

 **The Second Time**

“You should come by Stark Tower sometime. Top 10 floors, all R&D, you'd love it. It's candy-land.”

“Thanks, but the last time I was in New York, I kind of broke... Harlem.”

***

**The Third Time**

The evening had started exactly as planned. Once Tony had convinced Bruce that he wasn’t dragging them to some gaudy celebrity haunt, Bruce’d seemed rather amenable to the idea. The restaurant was small, with barely enough room for six tables, and it was the best Chinese in a five block radius. Bruce, Tony had discovered, hadn’t had Chinese for almost four years and had taken it upon himself to reintroduce him to the delights of chow mein, prawn crackers and dim sum.

As expected, it had been a little awkward to start. Bruce was clearly still uncomfortable with being in public and had the tight hold of himself, as if he thought that he could keep the Other Guy locked inside through tensing of his muscles alone,  that Tony had come to associate with an uncomfortable Bruce. Luckily, one of Tony’s many talents was making people feel at ease; he almost as good at it as he was at unsettling them.

By the time dinner arrived, they had already saturated the table’s napkins with molecular diagrams, scrawled equations and half-formed, theoretic algorithms. (The restaurant was apparently accustomed to eccentric patrons because when Tony asked for more, the waiter brought them a stack.)

Bruce was reworking his theories, sliding around parameters and hypothesises to accommodate all the things he’d missed trudging from slum to slum. With only limited access to the scientific community, Bruce, who had already fitted a rather particular niche, had been forced to restrict his brilliant mind further and, as a result, his understanding of gamma radiation was truly groundbreaking. Tony couldn’t remember the last time anyone had taken him to school over anything and he definitely hadn’t enjoyed it as much as he did when Bruce would explain the theorems he had developed.

However, now that Tony had given him access to his truly impressive subscriptions, Bruce barely had his head out of a journal. Tony had delighted in introducing him to some of the most recent breakthroughs, not only in the area of traditional science but also in medicine, pharmacology, psychology, mathematics, computing, even philosophy, and the effect had been utterly breathtaking. The fascination and curiosity that had been sparked the first time Tony had hacked the SHEILD database, and had been fanned by his first meeting with the quiet, unassuming man with wild, streaked hair and a soft, self-deprecating mouth, had become a full-blown blaze.

The world unravelled beneath Bruce’s strong square fingers, his pen sketching out its blueprints, complete with secret passages. It was one of the sexiest things Tony had ever seen in his life.

So, he let Bruce do most of the talking, allowed their hands to brush as they passed the pen between them and made geeky science innuendos just to watch Bruce smile. He settled the bill at the end of the dinner, drove Bruce home and broke protocol by asking to be asked in for coffee. He wasn’t surprised when Bruce didn’t take him seriously.

***

**The Fourth Time**

“Face it, Tony, you haven’t had to work for it this hard for a very long time,” Tony muttered, staring at a hologram screen that had turned to standby about five minutes ago. Across the room, Bruce glanced up; glasses sliding down his nose and hair fluffed up like a kitten after playtime.

“Did you say something?”

“I said, how’s it going?” Tony pushed away from the desk and strode over to stand behind Bruce’s chair, making Bruce twist around to look at him.

“Fine, fine, I’m just trying to… erm, what are you doing?” Bruce asked, perplexed and trying to peer up at the hand running through the soft curls that tumbled over one another haphazardly.

“Your hair’s a mess.” Tony answered, deliberately leaning in and catching Bruce’s eye, “I’m fixing it for you.”

“Err… thanks.” Bruce replied still trying to see above his own hairline.

“My pleasure,” Tony let Bruce turn back to his work and then leant down to read his notes over his shoulder. He deliberately positioned his mouth millimetres away from Bruce’s ear as he added, “anything I can help you with?”

“No, I’m good thanks.” Bruce replied absently, his pen already beginning to make fresh scrawls. There wasn’t even a hitch in his breathing. There wasn’t even that awkward, what-the-hell tone of someone whose personal space was being invaded. Tony may as well have been on the other side of the room.

“You sure?” Tony pushed, just in case Bruce had gotten so involved in his work that he’d momentarily forgotten Tony was barely a hair’s breadth away.

“Yeah, I’m fine. You can go do whatever work you need to do,” Bruce leant away to smile up at him politely and Tony tried to understand how someone _that_ good-looking could be so oblivious.

“The scientific community doesawait my work with bated breath.” Tony quipped, but it lacked its usual swagger,

“Well, I certainly don’t want to be responsible for any oxygen deficiency.”

Tony resists the urge to ask about his stance on blue balls.

***

**The Fifth Time**

Tony Stark wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. After all, people tended to notice when the world’s biggest playboy came onto you. He stared across the lab at the scientist, chin in hand, and debated his next move. From the corner of his eye he spotted Pepper enter the room.

“Tony, I need you to sign some papers.”

“Hmm…? Oh, yeah, whatever. Sure.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah. Sure. Sure; it’s a good word. Means ok, I’ll do it, no problem...”

“I know what it means, Tony,” Pepper interrupted him, “Especially when you say it.”

Tony looked over at her with a perturbed expression, “What does it mean when I say it?”

“It means something isn’t going your way.” She glanced over to where Bruce was muttering to himself, staring down a microscope. “I did try to warn you.” She added, a smile playing around her mouth.

“It’s not that he’s not interested,” Tony retorted, flicking his eyes over to make sure Bruce hadn’t heard, “it’s that he hasn’t noticed.” He lamented, his mouth pursing into a pout, “The guy’s been out in the middle of nowhere for so long he’s forgotten what flirting looks like.” When he looked back Pepper was laughing, suppressing her quiet sniggers behind her hand; it would have been cute had it not been directed at Tony. He glared at her.

“Don’t you have some kind of super secret assassin chick to play with? By the way, why haven’t I gotten any of those videos yet? I thought that was the deal?”

“No, Tony, that wasn’t the deal.”

“Sure it was. You run away with a stunning, _female_ secret agent, and I get videos. Sounds like a fair exchange to me. Hey Bruce, I should get the tapes right?” He called across the lab, “Now, Romanoff and Pepper are playing house without me, it’s the least they could do. Say yes, and I’ll let you watch them with me.”

Bruce gave them an uncomfortable and slightly irritated look, “I’d rather keep all my appendages in the places they were designed to be, thank you.” He replied and turned back to his work, tapping out a command on his computer and checking his notes.

Tony pouted but Pepper had no sympathy for him. “Seriously, that was your best attempt?”

“I’m grasping here.”

Pepper fixed him with a flat look, “Clearly.”

***

**The Time It Worked**

The scotch was good, with a perfect burn as it slid down his throat. Tony moaned his appreciation, opening his eyes to watch Bruce in the armchair opposite him pouring a dram of his own. He grinned when Bruce’s eyebrows rose at its potency.

“50 year old Scotch, one of the benefits of being ridiculously wealthy.” Tony informed him. Bruce hummed in approval, or agreement, possibly both, and took another swig.

“To sex, booze and science, without which life would not be worth living.” Tony declared suddenly, raising his glass to toast an imaginary audience.

Bruce snorted softly, “Well, two out of three ain’t bad,” he drawled and Tony quirked an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Been awhile?”

“Oddly, there’s not many people queuing up to sleep with a guy who turns into a, ‘enormous, green, rage monster’ at really inconvenient moments.”

Tony fixed him with a calculating stare, measuring out the pros and cons of saying what he wanted. On the one hand, subtlety was clearly lost on the man and, to be honest, Tony was getting little fed up with waiting for the penny drop. One the other, Tony had no idea if Bruce was even interested; whether he had been actively (and expertly) ignoring Tony’s advances, or whether he’d just convinced himself that no-one could possibly interested in him anymore; both scenarios which would require a certain amount of tact.

Of course, his mouth paid its usual amount of attention to his mind’s activities, “I would.”

Tact had never been one of his strong points anyway.

Tony leaned back in his seat, settling into a relaxed facade that belied the knot of worry in his stomach, and carefully watched Bruce react to the statement. A few amusing seconds of confused blinking to register the comment; a brief flash of  consternation and confusion followed by a long moment of bewildered disbelief that eventually accumulated into a less-than-eloquent response, “…What?”

Considering the possibilities (of which, one included Bruce Hulking-out and laying waste to Stark Tower), it was a fairly promising reaction.

“I’m not really sure if it’s the genius thing, which as a genius I can reliably inform you is extremely sexy; the whole ‘calm-and-collected-scientist-only-ever-seconds-away-from-snapping’ thing; or just the brooding good looks. To be honest, I think it might just be all three.”

“Erm…”

“I guess the question now is: are _you_ interested?” Tony finished by resting his chin in his hand and waited for Bruce to recover.

“I… I mean, I didn’t know you…”

“Yeah. That’s been painfully obvious.”

“I don’t even know if I can… you know, do that, without the other guy…” he made a vague gesture, “…making an appearance.”

Tony hesitated for a second before carefully responding. “That’s… not a no.”

“No. That’s not a no.” Bruce repeated, just as carefully.

The smirk spread across Tony’s face slowly and he enjoyed the feel of it as he leered openly. Bruce rolled his eyes but the effect was ruined by his amused smile. Tony raised his empty glass and nodded to the bottle on the table in front of Bruce, “Could do with a refill.”

“Hmm,” Bruce replied in a way that cast doubt on his belief in Tony’s inability to reach the bottle, but he pushed himself up from his armchair anyway, snagging the bottle as he covered the whole two steps’ distance between them. He obligingly poured a large measure of whiskey into Tony’s glass before refilling his own.

“Cheers.” Tony smirked, clinking their glasses together, before swallowing his share in one mouthful. Bruce sipped his drink slowly, smiling around the rim of his glass as Tony took the bottle from him and set it on the coffee table beside his own glass. “Hey.” Tony grinned, sliding a hand up Bruce’s thigh.

“Hey,” Bruce repeated, suppressing a laugh.

“How’s it going?” Tony asked, his grin spreading wider.

Bruce shrugged, “Not bad.”

“Not bad? Maybe we can improve on that hmm?” Tony tugged Bruce’s glass away, placing that on the table too, “I hear there’s this new fad going round, all the cool kids are doing it. Perhaps you’ve heard of it? I think they’re calling it kissing? Necking? Making –out? It might have been making-out…”

“Tony?”

“Yes, Bruce?”

“Shut up.” Tony grinned and Bruce leant down to make sure he followed orders.

 


End file.
